Time Out of Mind (68 page)

“
Yes!”
she shouted into the mouthpiece.

No answer.

“
She's fine, Tom,” he answered for her. “We're just
finishing up a little talk.” Lesko twisted Dancer's collar to get his attention. “Just so I can sleep tonight,” he said into
Dancer's ear, “did these guys find Corbin or was it the
other way around?”

”
I don't know,” Dancer choked. “It's true. No one
knows what happened.”

“
So Corbin found them, right? Because no one knew
there was a Corbin left until you hired me to verify it an
other twenty years later.”

Dancer could only shake his head. Lesko was sure that he knew more than he'd admit to, but maybe not a whole
lot more. Twenty years. Twenty years they've been looking
over their shoulders because a dying man, Bigelow, says
that the guy who done him was the same guy hanging in
the lobby of the Beckwith Regency. If he's dying, it figures
he's a little out of it, right? But still, even if you believe
that a college kid could have dismantled two grown men
who had to be pros', would a pro like Bigelow have said it
was Tilden who did it? He might have said it was some
kid who maybe looked like him. Wouldn't he? But then, how do we explain that Corbin knew Bigelow? If it
was
him.

“
It was him.'' The words came labored through crushed
and crusted lips.

Huntington Beckwith leaned closer over the dying man's
bed. Both legs were suspended in traction. Both arms were splinted upon raised wooden boards. Ella and her brother
stood together on the bed's far side. “It was who, George?
Who did this to you?”

“‘
Old Mr. Beckwith. He 's alive. ”

“
He is alive.” The man named Bigelow choked. “He's
alive and he's young and strong again.''

Huntington looked up at his daughter, his expression a
mixture of frustration and annoyance. “‘He is hallucinating.
It's the drugs they gave him for the pain.”

“
It was him,'' Bigelow shouted, but the effort brought a
surge of agony that almost made him faint.

“
No, George. He's dead and gone. They are all dead
and gone.''

Ella heard a whimper behind her. Her brother, Tilden,
had crowded back against the wall. She shook her head in
disgust. “What then, Mr. Bigelow?” she asked. “You fol
lowed him, did you not?”

“
He followed us,” George Bigelow rasped. “We went
to the garage under the Drake where Flack's car was and
we hid behind this post and we waited for him. Then he
comes walking in like he doesn't care if we know he's com
ing or not. Then he just stands there, real straight like
before, listening. I figure enough is enough so I step out
from the post but I tell Flack to stay where he is. This kid walks right up to me and he's squinting and then nodding like now he 's sure he knows me and now I see his nose is
bent just like the old man's was. I say, ‘Who are you?’ He just smiles and he says, ‘Hello, George.' And I get scared
and I yell for Flack and Flack comes around and grabs
this kid around the neck from behind. But he's still got this
smile and there's a look on his face that says, Oh, Jeez,I
'm really gonna love this. So I throw a punch because I'm
going to wipe off that smile, see? And I split open his eye
brow. It was an accident, exactly where I hit him, I mean, but now he's got this cut exactly where the old man had it and now he looks even more like the old man than he did
before and this smile is still there. Next thing, real fast, he kicks Flack in the shin with his heel and he spins and gives Flack three hard shots and they knock him on his ass be
tween some parked cars. Flack gets up holding his mouth
and I think he's running away but he runs to his car and
he gets this billy he keeps under the seat. Then this kid
comes at me except now it's him. It's Tilden. And he brings
up his fists like the old-time fighters. I get a few shots in
but he's too fast. He's too strong. I went down and he
comes down right on top of me. Then I see Flack with his
billy and I know Flack nailed him. And I say, ‘Good, get
him off me,' and Flack pulls him up by the hair and starts
ramming the billy into his kidneys. But he doesn't feel it. I
look at those eyes and I know he doesn't feel it.”

Huntington Beckwith shot a withering stare at Ella's
brother, who had the look of a frightened child. Bigelow
sucked in a deep, whistling breath and Huntington could hear the bubbling of mucus and blood that would fill his lungs and kill him during the coming night.

”
I hit him.” Tears formed in Bigelow's eyes. “Flack hit
him. It didn't do no good.''

Huntington Beckwith shook his head. ”I don't under
stand, George.''

At the far wall, Tilden Beckwith II had turned his face
away and was sobbing, one hand over his mouth.

“
Ella,” her father whispered sharply, nodding in his di
rection.

Ella turned and slapped her brother's face. “Not another
sound, Tillie,'' she warned him.

“‘
He told you,'' Tilden wailed.

She slapped him again.

“
He said we would have to answer to him. He said
there's no hole deep enough
—”

The third slap, backhanded, drew blood from his mouth.
Tilden squealed at the taste of it and, shoulders bunched, he slid down the hospital wall. He made no further sound.

“‘
Mr. Beckwith,'' George Bigelow whispered.

“
Yes, George.”

“
How did he know?”

”
I don't think he could have known, George. There's some mistake here. We'll sort it out, I promise.''

“
He did know. He knew everything.”

“
'I don 't understand, George.'' Huntington 's eyes nar
rowed.

“‘
He took Howie Flack's billy. He went for our knees first
so we couldn 't get away. He smashes my knee. He says
‘Margaret.' He smashes the other knee, he says ‘Jonathan. '
Maybe twenty times before I pass out, he says ‘Margaret’
and ‘Jonathan.' When I can 't even feel the billy anymore,
I hear ‘Margaret’ and ‘Jonathan.' Ask Flack. Flack will
tell you.''

Huntington said nothing. .